


a genie granted wish

by esseepee



Category: Half-Life
Genre: (at first), (happier tags tba), (it's not going to be THAT graphic but it's there), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, Half Life but the AI is Self Aware - Freeform, Half Life but the AI is Self Aware partly caused this, Half Life but the AI is Self-Aware (inspired), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medium Burn, Nightmares, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Selectively Mute Gordon Freeman, inspired by a bomb ass discord, tba tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24291268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esseepee/pseuds/esseepee
Summary: Gordon (not) (?) Freeman isn't sure how to feel about meta and reality-breaking games. He certainly knows how he feels about G-man.
Relationships: Barney Calhoun/Gordon Freeman
Comments: 10
Kudos: 68





	a genie granted wish

**Author's Note:**

> OK.... this has been sitting in my drafts for aWHILE. im pretty excited for this !! i SWEAR it'll get more comfort... more other characters like alyx and kleiner, and more freehoun! next chapter, anyway. i gotta go write some of the other thousand ideas prodding my brain, enjoy this !

Gordon is a smart man and player. His month-away degree proves that, his teachers’ approval proves that, and his fictional AIs prove that. They’re not his, he has to keep in mind, they’re  _ programmed _ to praise the player. Yet, as he scrolls through yet another repetitive forum, he can’t help but think back to the ending no one seemed to get.

Gordon reads the words, vaguely understand them, know the syllables and pronunciation, but stringing sentences together is an impossible feat. He’s riding on one hour of sleep, desperately clicking and clicking to not jump up at the sound of a faraway door opening. He puts on white noise. Half Life ambient.

He can’t sleep, even as his eyelids droop. Any attempts at relaxation is met with restless thinking, twisting and turning—ideas forming faster than he can scribble. Might as well stay up, he reasons, even at 3 AM. He needs answers, yet none present themselves. None seemed to exist.

Maybe, just maybe, the experience was a dream. Maybe, he thinks as he glares at his VR equipment, it’s a sign to get his life together. Change paths. Be productive. Some dumb bullshit even his sleep deprived mind won’t believe.

Gordon found himself clutching the headset, seemingly teleporting to the other side of the room faster than his legs could stumble. Maybe, his mind tries, this pull, this  _ lure,  _ was the real sign. To fix what the Freeman couldn’t.

He doesn’t have a goal. While it’s been half a month, Gordon remembers where to go. His feet slide across the stained asphalt, ignoring the other citizens—save for the woman missing her husband, he feels too bad—up until he knows the cameras would detect him. It’s silly, but Barney recognizing him for standing out makes him re-do his first inspections. Act different, act like someone new. Even if it’s in the code to be discovered. Briefly, he thinks of his last session.  _ Maybe it does matter. _

A harsh tug alerts him. His headset nearly flies off from whipping his head around, seeing a guard yell at him to follow, an undercurrent of  _ something—desperation?— _ to follow. Gordon doesn’t need any more clues to know it’s Barney, even if his actions are different. The hand never leaving his forearm is firm and gentle. He could  _ almost _ feel, but, despite the goosebumps, he could not. He ignores his thoughts.

He also ignores Barney’s dialogue in favor of hugging him.

The stiff posture and abrupt silence made Gordon nervous. Barney is talkative, friendly, expressive, not a boulder. Not this.

Gordon realizes with a start that the deviation process is beginning. No doubt because of his actions. Deviating, he learns, is easy when you know what buttons to push. Rather than up-down-A-B-X-trigger, it was displays of affection. He forces his mind not to linger on that.

“Woah, Gordo, don’t worry. ‘m not gonna avoid getting you that beer.” Barney chuckles with an undercurrent of uncertainty. Gordon presses his head into Barney’s shoulder.

“... The—“ He paused, hands over Gordon’s, tilting his head to look at him. He was silent for a moment. Gordon imagined he smelt of sweat and smoke. Finally, Barney spoke. “You’re okay, right? Did you get hurt?”

Gordon reluctantly let go, allowing Barney to turn as he began to sign.  _ I’m ok. Worried and confused, though. _ The gradual relief on Barney’s face made Gordon ache to hug him again.

He didn’t, as Barney lost the tender look and spun around to call Kleiner. His hands worked methodically, robotically, and Gordon felt his heart fall to his stomach. He wanted to say something, Gordon could tell, but it’s too early. The script must be followed.

But he needs— needs Barney to look at  _ him,  _ see  _ him _ , reserve his words for Gordon  **not** Freeman. Desperately, he reached forward, but stopped short. His mind slows, hand trembling, doubt shrouding his mind.

Was deviating a good idea? He saw the effects it had. The difference. The connection was authentic, real, just what isolated Gordon wanted. But it’s selfish, it’s anxiety-inducing, it’s  _ unforgettable. _ To make them deviant for  _ his _ benefit was unfair. The genuine anguish. The real,  _ real _ cries and screams and whimpers and flesh cutting and

“—ordon, Gordon, shit,  _ hey, _ stay with me, bud. Gordon?”

He lifts his head, the weight of the headset making the action exhausting. Difficult. Gordon couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped him, couldn’t stop the influx of tears and emotions. Hugging in VR is difficult, yet it was… almost perfect, right now.

Barney said nothing. Just held him, occasionally shushing him, moving to look at the door before continuing to pet him. He could almost feel it.  _ Almost. _ Gordon is  _ so _ fucking sick of that word.

He’s a stupid man with a stupid heart pumping love for a  _ AI.  _ The thought of leaving Barney, leaving Kleiner, Alyx, Eli,  _ any _ of them hurt more than what was reasonable. But he can’t forget. Can’t let go.

“Gordon, I… I gotta get back to work. Gotta tell Kleiner you're here. I don’t want to,” Gordon swears he heard a quiet ‘again.’ He readjusts his grip to be tighter. “but you’re not safe here. With you popping out after two decades, who knows what else could knock on our door?”

The moment he was free to save, he did. Then Gordon ripped the headset off and curled up on his bed. He was tired, he didn’t want to cry, he just wanted his friends.  _ His AIs. _

He cried anyway.

Gordon has his diploma. He’s an intern for a hotshot company. He has a part time job at a library. He’ll work in a lab someday, hopefully within five years. He took up sewing. He’s living a life.

_ A _ life.

Weeks merge and blur, differences few and excitement fewer. His schedule is consistent which is nice, but robotic. He feels like a drone, a background character so unknown, so unseen, so uncared for…

He’s longer going with the flow as the current has been stagnant for quite some time now.

He’s a stupid man. An absolute idiot with no sense. A bumbling buffoon trying to peel a banana that’s already peeled. If he thought deeply about that statement, he might’ve laughed.

But he didn’t because he’s busy…  _ searching. _

He’s scraping with dull nails, digging into an empty bucket of hope. Gordon can’t live like this and he doesn’t think it’s just him spiralling.

Gordon’s first Half Life playthrough evolved into a second. Then a third, fourth, and half of a fifth. He took in every detail, every bit of lore, every fan idea, even crafted his own theories. He’s only ashamed of his inane attachment. In hindsight, he wants to smack himself for being  _ so obsessive. _

The VR mod was found by chance. Upon seeing it and finding it legitimate, he bought VR equipment before he could read the instructions. Or get a deal. He loaded it up, played once, twice, but the third time… was different. The  _ characters _ were different. It started with the dialogue being slightly different, then the body language and looks the cast thrown at him were hesitant. The fifth playthrough, things were noticeably different. They were too comfortable. Casual. But sad.

Really,  _ really _ fucking sad. Then they started to  _ talk differently. _ They acknowledged  _ Gordon, _ not just his character model. Kleiner was the first to break the mold, then Alyx, then Barney, then… Then everyone seemed to know.

Gordon was stuck in the VR for a week. He couldn’t take it off, not with Breen and the Combine fucking  _ aware _ . He earnestly tried to exit but wasn’t able to. Part of him didn’t, at first. Morbid curiosity, one could say, but as the adventure deviated---as the  _ characters _ deviated, he wasn't curious. He was terrified.

Thus, he made mistakes.

Gordon’s dreams warped into nightmares or reminders. Both, most of the time. He thought about going back, attempting to repeat the fun times and exploits, but he didn’t have the strength. He couldn’t face Alyx, her off script anger and grief so  _ real  _ and  _ loud, _ directed at him when it wasn’t his fault… Or maybe it was. He can’t—he’s  _ not  _ going to think about this right now.

Not when the fucking Gman was drinking his soda in his gaming chair.

“You have… Taste, Gordon.”

His mouth fell open, hands trembling before balling into fists. Gman quirked a brow, sipping noisily and uncaring of Gordon’s internal lockdown. Gman raises a hand before Gordon could collapse. The walls twist like gears, opening a path with an open door far down it.

Gordon falls to his knees.

“Though… You’re not, quite, a player... Hm?” A breathy inhale, loud gulp, then a clatter. Gordon looked up to see the soda can perfectly upright despite the lack of floor. He looks down and sees no floor. There’s no real processing going on. There’s no real anything right now.

“You will… Understand, when, you wake up.” Gman says, as if reading his mind. Probably did. Probably  _ is. _

“You know, my … Employers. Are invested in the reality called Half Life. Even more, invested, with your… anomaly of a timeline.”

Gordon wants to speak but his hands stay glued to his side.

“It’s… Not my first choice, you, I mean. The assembly line, of Gordons, is vast. Many others would be fitting, but…” He tilts his head. Gordon can’t see him but  _ knows. _ Somehow. The hairs on the back of his neck stand, cold air nipping at his flesh. He feels exposed. Threatened.  _ Terrified. _ His jackrabbit of a heart echoed around him.

“... Employers, know, best. You are an investment, they are interested. And, frankly…”

Gordon is sliding backwards. He reaches out, chewed fingernails scraping against the floor-that-isn't-there, hoping to _wake up_ _. _ That this  _ nightmare _ would  _ stop. _

“I am interested, too.”

He hears beeping.


End file.
